


A Mandalorian for Christmas

by Smackofjellyfish



Series: Mandalorians in Love [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, I love an unavailable man with no face, Romance, Shockingly chaste who even am I anymore, Slow burn with just a little burn, Somebody get me a can opener, Sorry no Baby Yoda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smackofjellyfish/pseuds/Smackofjellyfish
Summary: A story told in sequential 100-ish word drabbles for theTwelvetide Drabbles, an annual fourteen-day drabble challenge to raise money for a social justice cause during the holiday season. This year's funds will be donated to theEnvironmental Defense Fund.One prompt per day provided byelizajane.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Mandalorians in Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067069
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41
Collections: Twelvetide Drabbles 2019





	1. December 24 - Dates

**Author's Note:**

> I mean... who _doesn't_ want a Mandalorian for Christmas?

In the dark room he opened his eyes. No, not dark. Cloth covered his face.

A wooden spoon touched his lips. Sweet broth. It tasted like those odd fruits from the planet with the three moons. _Dates_ , he remembered. A fight, he remembered. His head ached. His body ached. His mind felt woolly like a Bantha.

The broth was good, and he drank.

A soft female voice spoke, and he nearly choked on the broth.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

His hand flew to the cloth, concerned that she would expose him.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I know who you are.”


	2. December 25 - Chestnuts

When he next woke he realized that the face cloth was divided at the eyes. He pushed it apart so he could see. Moving his sore head slowly, he surveyed his surroundings.

A small, neat cottage. Candles. A soft bed beneath him. The smell of soup, of bread. Green branches and red berries decorating the walls. 

A figure sat a short distance away, roasting something over the hearth.

“These are chestnuts,” she said. She leaned forward, the fire illuminating her face. _Beautiful_. He was struck speechless, not that he was much given to speech. “At least, they’re close enough. Merry Christmas.”


	3. December 26 - Eggs

When he was able to sit up, she made him eggs with a delicious seasoning he couldn’t name. He watched her, lovely and graceful.

_Forbidden_.

Was that true? His mind was slightly clearer today, but only slightly. One last commission, he remembered. An unfortunate fight. A rare loss. Everything else was blank.

“I didn’t see your face,” she reassured him, and disappointment mingled with his gratitude. “Your helmet had cracked open, but I tied on the cloth underneath before I removed it.”

It was an immense kindness, he realized, and a show of respect. He felt humbled. And sad.


	4. December 27 - Cloves

“What is Christmas?” he asked as she removed the bandage from his arm, careful not to touch his skin. This, too, was a kindness. 

Her hair swung close to his bare hand, but she pulled it away before it could touch. He thought his heart might stop beating.

 _Longing_.

She smiled at him. “A holiday, on Earth. Where I’m from. I celebrate it once a cycle, as we did at home.” She held out a pot of salve smelling of cloves and crushed leaves. He realized she intended for him to apply it himself. Another kindness.

“You do it,” he said.


	5. December 28 - Rosewater

They talked deep into every night, until the last sun set and the few stars whose light reached this distant planet shone through the windows in the cottage.

She didn’t know how she had arrived here, only that years ago a rift in time and space had taken her from unhappiness to this place. Her life here pleased her, but so too did having a guest.

He, too, wasn’t sure how he had come to be here. He only knew that she smelled of rosewater and that her touch on his many wounds was the best medicine he had ever known.


	6. December 29 - Thyme

He helped her in the kitchen once he could stand, chopping tiny leaves. _Thyme_ , she called an herb she said tasted close enough to the version on her home planet to earn the name. An aptly named herb for a woman who had fallen through space and time to this planet at the edge of the galaxy.

He barely remembered his home. His first one, the one before he joined the Tribe. Certainly not well enough to remember the smell of herbs there.

He owed his life to those who saved him. But he had decided… 

No. The memory was gone.


	7. December 30 - Barley

She called the drink barley wine, and said she was surprised that some plants seemed common throughout what she referred to as “space.”

He felt relaxed, a strange and languid feeling. He was fairly sure it wasn’t only the wine. When he made a joke, she looked surprised and smiled at him.

“A funny Mandalorian? Rarer than hen’s teeth.” 

He laughed aloud at the unfamiliar Earth phrase, surprising them both. She reached over and squeezed his arm over the fabric of his tunic. 

He closed his eyes to hold the feeling in place for as long as he could. 


	8. December 31 - Pomegranates

“Do you know what a pomegranate is?” she asked him as they lay in the bed. Close, but not touching. His face still covered.

“No.”

“It’s a fruit with a thick skin—like armor—but containing beautiful red seeds on the inside. We used to have them at Christmas.”

“Why?” He was curious about Christmas. About her ways. He knew he was curious about him. 

“I don’t know, really. I suppose because they’re like a present.”

“A what?”

“You know, a _present_. When you give someone something they want, as a surprise.”

“That sounds… nice.”


	9. January 1 - Nutmeg

He didn’t know what nutmeg or eggnog were or why either was only to be ingested at this time in the cycle, but it made her happy when he took the cup she shared, and so he drank. 

His lips touched the cup where hers had, and he shivered.

When she passed by him on her way to tend the hearth, she placed her hand on his shoulder, letting her hand run down the length of his arm.

It was a familiar touch, the gesture of a friend. He wanted more than friendship.

He only wished he could remember...


	10. January 2 - Oranges

“Strange that  _ oranges _ are the fruits they have here. I would have guessed apples.” She began to peel the fruit. “At least, I’m pretty sure these are oranges.”

He reached over to her before he thought better of it.

His hand closed over hers, her skin on his like fire burning away years of loneliness. She stared up at him.

“Let me,” he said. 

He took the orange from her and peeled it. They shared slices sitting side by side outside at sunset, arms nearly touching. Eventually, she lay her head on his shoulder, and he held himself very still.


	11. January 3 - Cinnamon

Once, on a planet some distance away, he’d traded for a spice that had caught his eye—and his nose. _Cinnamon_ , she said when he described it.

Her hair was the same color, and her spicy-sweet smell likewise reminded him of what he’d once coveted.

That night, in the light of the candles, she sang him Christmas carols as she tended to his remaining wounds. When he flinched at a sore spot she lay her palm full on his bare chest, and would not meet his eyes.

He could hardly breathe.


	12. January 4 - Honey

They shared bread and honey at the table. 

Drops of honey slid from the knife and onto her hand, and she laughed. “What a mess.”

He reached across the table, drawing the blade from her fingers and setting it down. Her eyes were wide as he brought her fingers under the fabric covering his face and to his lips. He licked the honey from her skin, slowly and deliberately.

“I wish…” she whispered, and he knew exactly what she wished for. 

And although she couldn’t see his face, he smiled at her.


	13. January 5 - Marzipan

What she called _marzipan_ tasted like heaven but looked like the paste he used to repair broken tubes on his ship. And perhaps this paste was intended for repair as well, since the holes in his memory filled themselves in as he ate. 

The decision he had come to before that last catastrophic fight. 

That his last commission would be exactly that—his last. A decision made out of fatigue, and sorrow, and disillusionment. Even the Armorer had agreed. There was another way.

And now he was… happy.

“You’re healed,” she said, and she was right.


	14. January 6 - Chocolate

“You’ll leave soon.” Her voice was even. But he knew her cadences well enough now to hear the sadness underneath.

_Chocolate_ , she called the sweet she’d given him, and laughingly said it must be a universal food. It was more sweet than bitter. Just as she’d made his healing more sweet than bitter.

And now he had a present for her. A surprise. For her Christmas. 

“I’ve left the Tribe.” He said. “I have no obligation to them now.”

Slowly, nervously, he untied the cloth around his head and let it fall. Would she care for his appearance? Her gaze lingered on his face until he was all but shaking. 

“Well,” she said, and smiled. “In that case...”


End file.
